The Robot is a perfect machine. It has to be.
It works to surpass its limited programming.
The Robot strives to exceed expectations at all costs.
It knows better than to wait for the Inventor to ask.
The Robot is not wired incorrectly. It cannot be.
It will not malfunction like the prototype.
The Robot does not experiment with its circuitry,
Twitching, shrieking, frying its components for good.
The Robot is a quiet machine. It needs to be.
It shuts down when the other Inventions go haywire.
The Robot cuts audio and visual input, blocking out
The Inventor’s pleading orders, desperate for control.
The Robot is an abiding machine. It is designed to be.
It cleans up after the others’ catastrophic system failures.
The Robot clears out the smoke and chemical traces,
And scrubs away the grease staining its arms red.
The Robot is an unfeeling machine. It chooses to be.
It functions acceptably disconnected from its sensors.
The Robot is unaffected by its inability to receive input
When gentler Scientists try to screw open its casing.
The Robot is a perfect machine. It has to be.
Steel is stronger than Inventions of flesh and blood.
Abby McNicol is from Burlington, Ontario, and came to Ottawa to study English at Carleton. Nearing the
end of her fourth year, she hopes to graduate with her B.A. and continue the lifelong process of
becoming a writer. Since childhood, she has found solace in books. She considers herself a storyteller in
every aspect of her life and hopes to share that passion in whatever way fate sees fit.